


Good Lil Boy

by persephoneregina



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Atheels, Boys in Skirts, Dom Park Seonghwa, Dom/sub, Edging, Fishnets, Fucking, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Making Out, PWP, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Shameless Smut, Shibari, Skirteez, Sloppy Makeouts, Smut, Sub Jung Wooyoung, Whipping, boys in heels, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25563238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneregina/pseuds/persephoneregina
Summary: The apartment is completely dark, ever so slightly illuminated by the blueish neon lights from the front skyscraper across the road.Wooyoung carefully looks around himself, pulling down the hems of his short leather skirt, as a sort of an involuntary reflex, to keep it in place as he walks down the hallway, led by the faint glow coming from the wide windows in the living room.When he gets there, he has to choke a gasp in his throat, while an intense flush of blood rushes to both is cheeks and way, way lower, making him suddenly question his clothing choices.He breathes heavily and suddenly he knows that he has his attention.“Took your time, uh?” The severe voice of the man reprimands him.Or, a kinky PWP AU featuring Wooyoung in a skirt, Seonghwa in heels, red lipstick, a whip and some ropes.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Good Lil Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my darlings,  
> It's me, your humble scribbling gremling that once in a full moon needs to come out with a piece of pure smut to let out *THINGS*.  
> This is a small pwp piece inspired by a magic astral conjunction determined by: the track title "Good Lil Boy", the whole hurricane Skirteez going on on Twitter and a long and motivational conversation with my adored Zaly, so here it is I guess.  
> I hope you'll enjoy and, in case you did, please leave kudos and comments down below, since they keep your writiny alive and thriving!  
> Aslo, if you want to keep up with my works and projects remember that you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/persefoneregina)!
> 
> Love you all!

“Leaving already?” San asks, grabbing him by the leather jacket on his way to the door.

“Yeah… This party’s a drag anyway, and you don’t need me to take you home.” Wooyoung retaliates with a knowing smirk, pointing with a hint of his head to the tall, blonde man who has been flirting with his best friend all evening. “We’ll catch up tomorrow for lunch so you can let me into all the details.” 

“Oh stop it…” San whines, rolling his eyes and pretending he has absolutely no idea of what Wooyoung is talking about, while his vivaciously flushed cheeks tell a whole different story and give him away as soon as he turns around and his eyes meet the ones of the stranger for the nth time that night.

“Go get your ride, cowboy.” Wooyoung says, greeting him goodbye with a pat on his shoulder, as he heads to the corridor and, eventually, leaves.

He has better plans anyway.

Before putting on his black helmet, he carefully pushes his hair back and tightly ties a bandana around his head, to keep them neat and in place.

Then, he takes a deep breath and revs up his Harley, disappearing in a flash in the gentle embrace of the night.

* * *

  
  
  


When he arrives in front of the familiar block of flats, Wooyoung pulls out of the inner pocket of his jacket a small bottle of perfume and nearly bathes in it, basking in the clouds of musky fragrance for a few seconds, before walking up to the keypad next to the glass doors and inserting a short pin code to unlock the entrance.

The hall is empty and the sound of his footsteps against the black marble echoes throughout the whole trail, from the entrance to the elevator, and then all the way to the door of the flat.

As he slides his badge in the electronic lock, he feels his stomach in knots and loudly swallows before getting inside.

The apartment is completely dark, ever so slightly illuminated by the blueish neon lights from the front skyscraper across the road.

Wooyoung carefully looks around himself, pulling down the hems of his short leather skirt, as a sort of an involuntary reflex, to keep it in place as he walks down the hallway, led by the faint glow coming from the wide windows in the living room.

When he gets there, he has to choke a gasp in his throat, while an intense flush of blood rushes to both is cheeks and way, way lower, making him suddenly question his clothing choices. He breathes heavily and suddenly he knows that he has  _ his _ attention.

“Took your time, uh?” The severe voice of the man reprimands him.

There he is, sitting on the edge of his crystal table, dressed in a fine, tailor made, tightly fitted, black shantung suit, shirt opened for the leather harness underneath it to peek, a pair of glossy Louboutins at his feet and thin silver anklets dangling, making the curve of his feet’s lean bridges look more irresistible than ever.

He stares at Wooyoung, taking his time to savour the sight of his bare thighs under the fishnets and of his tensed jaw clenching.

It’s almost endearing: the way he presses his lips together to ease the tension, how he tries to look away from him and miserably fails, but most of all, how he has Wooyoung completely wrapped around his fingers and eating out of his hands.

He loves how addicted Wooyoung is to him.

He loves how he can bend him to his pleasure.

And in how many ways.

“I’m sorry, Seonghwa, I…” Wooyoung tries to speak, but before he can come up with a plausible excuse for his delay, he is shut down by the hissing sound of a whiplash rifting the air and flicking against the table’s surface.

“On your knees.” Seonghwa orders and, before he realizes it, seemingly under the effect of a Pavlovian conditioning, Wooyoung gets down, staring at him, longingly, expectantly.

Then, Seonghwa hops down the table as gracefully as a panther and excruciatingly slowly struts towards him, the clinking sound oh his heels, marking the time as precisely as a clockwork, sends enticed shivers all along the Wooyoung’s spine like subtle waves of static.

“Open up.” Seonghwa whispers, brushing with his thumb along the soft curve of the boy’s lips and almost forcefully pushing it inside his mouth. 

He bends his head back a sighs with pleasure, relishing in the warmth of his lover’s mouth, where his thumb is welcomed by that soft tongue of his drawing swirls around it and tickling on his fingertip.

Then, he slides out his thumb and pushes both of his index and middle fingers in, slowly, letting Wooyoung savour every millimeter of his skin, avidly sucking on them, knowing that’s nothing but a pleasant  _ amuse-bouche _ , an anticipation of what is about to come for him.

Nonetheless, Wooyoung is so eager to please and so willing to do his very best to make it up for being late that, soon enough, he is drooling all over his own chin and Seonghwa’s hand. 

He whines, eyes glistening with the ancestral hope of being rewarded for his commitment and dedication.

“Eager much?” Seonghwa asks under his breath, looking at Wooyoung with fondness and enticement a the same time, while he pulls his fingers out of his mouth and holds the bullwhip he was holding in the other one with his teeth, ever so slightly smudging the angles of his perfectly painted red lips. With both of his hands finally free, he reaches for his belt’s buckle and swiftly slides his belt off with a woosh.

“You know, Wooyoung, you have made me so sad tonight,” He begins to speak, taking his time to slowly walking around him, consuming him with his eyes “I thought you would have been so glad to see me…”

“...But I am glad to see you! I tried my best to be on time, I really did!” Wooyoung weakly protests, his words resembling more a kitten’s mewl than anything else.

“Mhm” Seonghwa hums, kneeling at his back and taking off of him the leather jacket and the worn out black t-shirt. 

In the darkness, the way Wooyoung’s skin glows with a soft lilac hue, that caresses the curves of his beautifully chiseled muscles, is enough to make Seonghwa wish he already had him bent over and ready, but if there’s something he has learnt to appreciate the assets of, that is patience. Making appeal to all of his self control and composure, Seonghwa takes his time to hover around Wooyoung’s shoulders and along his nape to inhale his addictive perfume, relishing in the growing arousal that that masculine fragrance induces in him, before getting to action.

From the inner pocket of his blazer, Seonghwa pulls out long, thick rope, smooth enough to not scratch the skin, yet sturdy and resistant.

Without saying a word, his breath mildly worked up, Seonghwa wraps his hands around Wooyoung’s arms and gently bends them back.

“Does this good lil boy want to play?” He whispers, close to Wooyoung’s ear, as his searing hot breath caresses the soft skin of the boy’s neck, making him shiver and nearly purr with anticipation under the pressure of the taller man’s body pressing against his bare back.

Wooyoung turns his head and nods, his teeth sinking in his soft lower lip. In his eyes the primal awareness of what’s going to happen lights up an undying fire of lust, that riles up Seonghwa even more, as he smiles, delighted, and leans forward to place a kiss on Wooyoung’s forehead, making sure his lips softly marry his warm skin, before sitting on his heels and patiently tying the boy’s wrists and forearms together in an intricate ladder of knots that reaches up to his elbows.

Then, Seonghwa holds the two ends of the rope and wraps them around Wooyoung’s torso, chest and shoulders, tying them together in the middle, right above his adorably pierced navel, with a firm knot, pulling them just the right amount to make them dig ever so slightly in the gloriously sunkissed skin of Wooyoung, yet not too harshly.

When he’s done decorating the beautiful body of his lover, Seonghwa contemplates his work, pleased at the living masterpiece that he has shaped and hungry for his consumption.

“How does it feel?” He asks, making sure that Wooyoung is comfortable, while sliding with his fingertips under the fishnets he’s wearing to grab those supple thighs of his, that bare touch giving Seonghwa ecstasy and turning Wooyoung on even more, so much that he lets out a lustful sigh and thrusts his hips forward, grinding on the air between his legs.

“It… It feels good, but…” Wooyoung tries to speak, but Seonghwa is already kissing him all over his neck and shoulders, leaving red lipstick marks all over him, and that’s enough to make him mewl needingly.

“But? Use your words, angel.” Seonghwa says between the loud, wet kisses with which he is constellating Wooyoung’s body.

Then, his hands travel from Wooyoung’s thighs all the way up to his groin, and that’s where he feels exactly what he desired. With an elegant movement of his hands, Seonghwa lifts up his skirt and, right after that, with just as much decision, he rips apart his thighs and lace underwear at once, releasing him from the fabric’s constraint and delicately caressing the smooth shaft of his hard erection with his fingers.

He clearly doesn’t mean to get him off, he only means to tease even more, and Wooyoung knows it. If possible, it makes him yearn even more for that feather light touch, desperate for the mildest relief it may carry, trembling at the most subtle variation in its pace, until Wooyoung feels himself getting hotter and wetter for his dominator, leaking all over his beautiful, long, lean fingers.

“...But I need you…” Wooyoung eventually moans, tears wetting his eyes and kittenish moans leaving his lips more and more insistently, rubbing his back against Seonghwa’s chest and looking for his lips with increasing impatience.

That is enough for Seonghwa to pick him up in his arms, a gallant expression on his face, with an effortless ease that makes Wooyoung feel weightless and safe in his embrace, and lay him down on the crystal table, legs held wide spread by Seonghwa’s firm grip on the soft flesh right above his knees.

“And are you going to be good for me?” Seonghwa asks, with his deepest voice register, pushing his sleek, black hair back, before crawling on top of Wooyoung and straddling on his lap.

“I will, I promise… I promise I will be…” Wooyoung pleas, pushing his hips to rub against the smooth fabric of Seonghwa’s trousers, pursuing the friction of their hard ons one against the other and dripping all over himself, incapable to contain his excitement.

Feeling Wooyoung being so needy for him turns Seonghwa on even more, who then leans down on him and kisses him with a feral intensity, insatiably thirsting for the thick flesh of Wooyoung’s lips, relentlessly sucking and biting them, before sliding on his neck with his eager mouth and marking him all over, with lipstick and hickeys and bite marks, accompanied by the heavenly sounds of Wooyoung moaning and sighing and gasping and begging for more.

“You’re leaking so much for me, baby… so, so, so much…” Seonghwa whispers, bringing one of his arms at his back and looking for Wooyoung’s hole with his wet fingers, determined to keep on edging him while stretching him out. “Look at you, being so vocal about how much you want me to ruin you… Do you want me to, baby boy? Want me to ruin you?” He asks, like he could get a no for an answer.

Like Wooyoung could even manage to form any coherent words in his mind, now that he has two fingers inside of him and Seonghwa grabbing on the knots on his chest to keep his balance, while he’s straddling him and keeping him on edge in the meanest, sexiest, most perfect way ever.

“You look beautiful” Seonghwa whispers, holding the bullwhip in his hand, running it along the curves of Wooyoung’s muscles and all the way down to his groin, gently slapping it on the inside of his thighs “Kissed by the moonlight and myself. That’s how you should always look. Perfectly blissful and waiting to be worshipped like you deserve, at the mercy of my love.”

Those words fill up Wooyoung’s ears and feel like a thousand caresses all over his body, while each single whiplash hits with the same delight of a kiss and ropes scratch his skin with the softness of a breath.

Then, Seonghwa undresses, each piece is taken off by excruciatingly slow yet effortlessly sensual movements, until he’s left completely naked, embraced by an articulate black leather harness and with his heels on only, glazed by his own sweat and coated by moonlight.

When he gets to the edge of the table, he pulls Wooyoung closer to its end and kneels down, hands firmly opening his cheeks up and his mouth finally feasting on him, filling the air with wet sounds and relishing licks as he takes his time to meticulously eat Wooyoung out, until he’s a trembling, squirming, moaning mess begging for him to devastate him.

And who is Seonghwa to deny him that, when Wooyoung is asking so prettily?

He stands up, and Wooyoung really needs a second to take in all that astonishing beauty: Seonghwa’s light skin glistens with pearls of sweat in the dark, the only note of colour is given by the vivid red streaks of smudged lipstick around his mouth and down his chin.

With his shiny eyes and his lustful expression, Seonghwa almost resembles a prowler making his way towards his prey.

He grabs the ropes tied around Wooyoung’s hips and, at long last, he takes him, with a long sigh of solace, taking his time, at first, to allow Wooyoung’s muscles to adjust around his shaft slowly spreading him apart and making way inside of him, gentle but relentless.

“Seonghwa… Love… You’re the most handsome man in the world… And I need you… I need you to make me feel yours… I need you to take me… I need you to own me… ” Wooyoung mewls, wrapping his legs around Seonghwa’s waist to pull him closer, while moaning and arching his back with relish at every inch of him he feels sliding inside, melting in a contrasting ensemble of pleasure and pain that both tears him apart and makes him feel whole.

And Seonghwa, once more, complies with his baby’s wishes, pushing himself all the way in and tugging at the ropes around Wooyoung’s chest, getting high at the sight of his skin turning red and of his needy, demanding whimpers.

Clinging onto every whisper, onto every breath, onto every moan, Seonghwa follows the pace dictated by Wooyoung’s hips, chasing his pleasure first, racing towards it with all the dedication he can muster, rhythmically surging inside of his tight insides and mindfully adjusting himself to keep on hitting the sweet spot Wooyoung’s pleasure is stemming from.

It isn’t long until Seonghwa feels Wooyoung clenching around his shaft and blissfully come in milky waves all over his own body and, likewise, it does not take long for Seonghwa either to ebb all of his come inside of him, a few clear droplets bedewing Wooyoung’s cheeks and slipping down the smooth skin of his legs afterwards. 

Seonghwa flops down, next to Wooyoung, on the crystal table, and lazily begins to untie the rope from his body with careful touches, kissing along the red marks left all over him. 

"You've been such a good boy, Wooyoung" Seonghwa softly remarks, punctuating his words with gentle, devoted kisses all over his body and running his hands through Wooyoung's wet hair "My little good boy. My best boy. All for me to love."

"All for you to love, all for me to love, all for us to love." Wooyoung smiles, still lost in the blessed waves of intense pleasure of the aftermath, pulling Seonghwa closer to capture his red, swollen lips into his own.

Then, Wooyoung looks right into his eyes, lost in yearning contemplation of the incredibly loving man, made of absolute contrasts and indecipherable mysteries, that Seonghwa is.

There is something primal and yet refined about him, about his ways, about his exquisite mannerism when it comes to turning something as apparently simple as sex in a unique experience of trust, elegance, pleasure, in a perfect balance of constraint and relief, of playfulness and perfectionism, of instinct and discipline.

Wooyoung loves it, with every single fiber of himself.

He loves it.

_He loves him_.

Without even knowing just  _ how much _ Seonghwa reciprocates him.

And it couldn’t be otherwise.

It wouldn’t work otherwise, if any one of them loved each other any less.


End file.
